Skip to main content

Time Horizon

The timing and sequence of the most vivid memories of the past can play tricks on my memory. A few nights ago, I woke up from the most peaceful dream I have ever had about P. For the first time since we broke up a year after college, I experienced closure. All that I had hoped would be true of our relationship but had not come to fruition in our time together, did in that dream. So much life has passed for both of us since then.

I am a completely different person now, unrecognizable even to myself though I hope P remained unchanged because life did not toss him around as furiously as it did me. There was another event that occurred around that time - my meeting J's father. We were introduced my aunt who knew his family. It was meant to be an exploratory conversation, C would call me on the phone and hopefully we would hit it off. Both families were in match-making mode at the time. I was one of his prospects as he was one of mine. 

The gaping void left by the absence of P in my life made me receptive to anything that might fill that gnawing silence. C was charming, witty and had a way of drawing me out of myself. That first conversation lasted an hour and he asked if he could call again and we exchanged email addresses. The flurry of emails started almost at once and it did not stop until we got married. But that was far from a linear path - that first phone call to the wedding ceremony. I went through tremendous upheavals over a two year period and decided to marry C against my better judgement - it was a heady mix of infatuation and desperation. I was not able to be interested enough in anyone else that I met during that time and I wanted to have a baby because the clock was ticking deafeningly loud in my mind. 

When I look fact from the sobriety of today's age and life experience both infatuation and desperation were unwarranted. It was almost like the die was cast that fateful moment that C made his first phone call and struck some deeply hidden chord that told my heart (and at the time I thought also my brain) that he is the one and no matter what evidence I receive the contrary I must persevere and so I did. The timeline of events has become a blur and maybe for the best because that would make my actions even harder to rationalize from my vantage point today.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques...